Three Words
by Squalrus
Summary: What could your love do to me? When will love be through with me?" Satine doesn't want Christian to throw his life away for someone who is going to die by running away with her. Neither does she want the Duke to hurt them. Zidler knows how to solve it.
1. Chapter 1

So, this probably isn't the only only story like this, but I thought I'd give it a shot. It gets more complicated later on and there are going to be happy moments, but you'll all have to be patient. Please tell me if you like it, because I'd really like to know. Also, criticism is welcome, but no flames, please.

-M

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The song ended and the curtains started to close. As the light began to fade, Satine braced herself for what she knew must be done. She couldn't bear to think about it any more, but the thoughts were still pushing angrily at the back of her head.

_I have to do this, if only for Christian_, she thought miserably, taking one last look at his face. It was a mistake to look, and she doubted - not for the first time - what she was doing. _I have to save him._

She let out a choked breath, gasping for air as she let herself fall backwards onto the stage. There were shocked gasps behind behind when she made herself go limp. She let the darkness engulf her as she felt Christian's arms around her, shaking her, willing her to wake up. "Satine!" he cried desperately. "Satine! Please, Satine!"

His arms wrapped around her tighter and soft sobs could be heard. _Oh, Christian_, she thought, fighting to keep her face blank and her breathing shallow so he wouldn't notice. _I'm sorry._

His cries echoed loudly around the stage as the crowds roared, oblivious to the tragedy separated from them only by a set of thick velvet curtains. Satine's heart broke then, and she doubted she could ever repair it. _I'm not worth saving,_ she thought bitterly, and tried once more to block out the sounds of grieving that floated around her. _If I was, I wouldn't be causing them this pain._

She bit back tears, willing the sorrow around her to stop. She wished she could jump up and say, "I'm okay!" But she couldn't do that. That would defeat the whole purpose of this charade. She had known there would be pain ever since Zidler had first mentioned the plan, but she could never have imagine the reality.

It was almost too much to stand.

"You're dying," he had said. She had stopped walking, then, unsure of what to belief. She had called it a trick to get her from leaving, but she knew they were right. She had seen it herself, had she not? She had seen the blood, and felt the strain and the tightness in her chest when she coughed.

She had gone to Christian, then, and told him she had planned to stay with the Duke. The lie did not work, though, and neither of them could bear hiding the truth. They loved each other, and there was no way of fighting it. She never told Christian of her illness, for what would he do? She was ecstatic when Christian had come up the aisle to her, letting his heart out for the world to see. _Come what may_, she had thought.

The lights skittered across the stage in colours that cast strange shadows as Zidler had come again, and she was reminded of her fate. He had come up behind her during the last song, whispering hurriedly in her ear as Christian sang his part, unaware of what was being said.

"He's throwing away his life for you, Satine," he father had said quietly. "Think of what that will do to him. You're dying, and he will be left with nothing."

She had smiled for the crowd, despite the knot in her stomach. The Duke was glaring from across the room, making angry hand motions to someone behind her. Maybe her father was right and she could only ever hurt Christian. She would condemn him.

She kept dancing next to Christian, and whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "What should I do?"

Harold paused to smile at the crowd and think, then answered with the words that caused this all.

"Fake your death."

her heart skipped a beat, the smile slipping from her face momentarily before she fixed it. "What?" she asked, hoping she had heard wrong.

"Fake your death, Satine," he had said again. "The Duke will no longer try to harm you or Christian because of his jealousy, and Christian will get on with his life. You'll see."

"Harold. . . "

"It's for the better, my diamond," was all he had said before slipping away into the crowd of dancers as she began her part.

As she lay limply in Cristian's arms right then, she began to doubt those words. What if Christian didn't move on? What if this was all useless?

But it was too late. If she told him now, Christian would know she had faked it all. He would never forgive her, and she could never forgive herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, I know I should update wuicker, but I figured probably noboy's actually reading this crud, so. . . . If you ARE reading this, my apologies. :)

And please give me feedback. I LURVE me some reviews, and it doesn't matter if it's criticism as long as there are no flames.

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**Two Months Later**

**Christian**

I walked through the streets, the world suddenly seeming so much darker and bleak. Nothing could bring smile to my mouth or a laugh to escape it.

Nothing.

Everything had changed since Satine had gone. The city had always been a little mad and reckless, but now it seemed to have spiraled out of control. Even those who never knew her, or had seen her just once; they all seemed to change when it was all over. The man who had once so happily played the violin now slumped drunkenly against the peeling paint of the building's walls as I walked past. The streets that had once been filled with laughter and smiles now stood empty and abandoned.

Playing with the key in my pocket, I glimpsed a flash of red hair out of the corner of my eye. Taking a deep breath, I restrained myself from turning around right the and calling her name. Slowly, hesitantly, I looked over my shoulder at the girl. It wasn't _her_. Not even close. The face was all wrong; the skin too pasty, the eyes too dull, and the hair was far too orange. It wasn't even red.

This had not been the first time that I had mistaken someone else for Satine, but every time I felt as if I became more and more empty. More emotionless. I still could hardly bear to think of her as truely dead. Some things just didn't feel right to believe. This was one of them.

A loud, obnoxious laugh echoed through the street. It seemed to mock me in the otherwise silent street. I blinked and turned the corner, finally walking up the creaky stairs to my apartment and escaping the rest of the city.

The smell of dust hit me as soon as I opened the door. It collected easily on all my belongings, and I let it. There was no use of keeping it off anything any more, I thought. I had no one to impress, no one to care - and no one to love.

My life had turned and left me alone in this world, and now I, too, collected dust.

**Satine**

I lay in bed, the feathered pillows surrounding me and tickling my face as I thought. There was nothing for me here, or anywhere, anymore.

Only back in Paris.

After my death was staged, Harold, Marie and I had moved to America to start anew. Harold said that was all for the best, and what better place to start over than a whole different continent? We were across the sea, and nobody here would recognize any of us.

At least that was our reasoning.

I sighed. What if I _wanted_ to be found?

I was living a lie, and I knew it. Every moment I spent, every breath, every word I spoke - they were all a lie.

All because someone, somewhere, thought I was laying six feet under instead of on a mattress.

It certainly didn't help matters that that someone was Christian, and that I couldn't shake the fear of him finding someone else. However selfish - I _knew_ it was selfish - that was, my heart seemed to cry at the mere thought of someone in my place, someone else in Christian's arms. Someone who didn't have to hide it every moment he was with him.

Someone who hadn't made him think they were dead.

I felt the tears well up in my eyes, but I didn't care. I was past the times when I had tried to stop the pain.

I let them fall down my cheeks and make damp spots on my pillows, losing myself in the blurriness of my emotions. I felt dead to the world, and not for the first time, I wished I was.

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Sorry, I know this chapter is really short. I just thought that was a good place to end it off for now. ;)

Anyways, please read&review. It's appreciated!


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